Suffer the Little Children
by Bard-of-the-90s
Summary: Jack and Sally's son, Edgar (OC), is inexplicably terrified of Halloween Town. On their annual vacation to Christmas Town, something out of the ordinary occurs. Rated T for VERY light innuendo. Just want to be careful.
1. Chapter 1

Unfortunately for the Bard, a small burrow of plot bunnies has taken up residence in his/her brain. He/she shall be quite busy for a while. Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, all Tim Burton's. I would have enjoyed seeing at least some sketches of Jack and Sally's bombastic Halloween wedding. I have introduced two "OC"s. Are you prepared for the awkward times ahead?

**SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN**

Any residents of HalloweenTown that were out and about on January 1st at around 24:30, or half past midnight, and that were also around the Doctor's abode could have been privy to an interesting sight. At this very specific time and place, Jack and Sally Skellington were leaving the laboratory to head back to Jack's mansion, Jack wrapped around Sally, Sally holding a bundle of squirming blankets. Of course, the blankets themselves weren't squirming; the child inside of them was. Jack and Sally's child. (A/N: Yes, they had a kid. If you want to know how they managed to have a kid, go read something else. In this fic, they just did. Sheesh.)

Jack and Sally were just like any new parents. Well, as alike as a skeleton and doll could be to any parents. As soon as Sally settled the baby in its crib, Jack grinned and pulled her close for a peck on the cheek.

"Unwrap him, then!" he whispered excitedly. Giggling, Sally gently pulled the blankets away from the child's face.

He was quite adorable, and definitely took after his mother; he had her large dark eyes and tufts of red hair were already growing in. He yanked two stick-thin arms, like his father's but with stitching, out of the blankets to rub at his eyes, slowly waking.

"Oh, Jack! He's so handsome."

"Only because he resembles you more," Jack replied with a chuckle.

"I've come up with the perfect name, too."

"What would that be, dear?"

"Edgar. Edgar Skellington." (A/N: Not very original, I know…)

"Edgar," Jack repeated, grinning once more. "How marvelous."

By this time, little Edgar was finally blinking his huge eyes open. In the dim light, he began to make out two shapes above him.

"Oh look, Jack. He sees us. Hello, sweety," Sally cooed. "I'm your mother."

"And I'm your father, little one," Jack added quietly.

Baby Edgar's eyes traveled back and forth between the stitched-together rag doll that was his mum and the towering skeleton that was his father. His tiny stitched mouth quivered.

At approximately 1:16 in the morning on the first of January, half of HalloweenTown was awakened by an infant's wail.

~17 years, 353 days later~

Teenage Edgar glanced out of his tower window and shivered. A few vampires glided past the murky glass, and he scrambled back to his bed to burrow under his sheets, as usual.

As improbable as it may seem, Edgar was afraid of HalloweenTown.

Sure, he had come to accept that he lived there, and likely would live there for the rest of his life. He also got over the rather frightening appearances of his parents and loved them immensely, as any child would love their parents. The town's other inhabitants, however… Now, logic would dictate that, since Edgar was born into HalloweenTown and hadn't received much outside stimulus, he would be perfectly comfortable in his environment. That wasn't the case.

Jack and Sally did everything they could think of to help their son adapt. When he was very young, they took him out often about the town in a buggy, but every time someone would approach, usually murmuring about how cute and creepy he was, he would cry or cover his eyes with his blanket, or both. As he grew, Edgar's parents took him to see Doctor Finkelstine for therapy of sorts. And though Edgar came to like the good Doctor, his methods were unorthodox at best, and, more importantly, didn't work. The most Jack and Sally could do was drag Edgar out every Halloween for the yearly festivities, during which he usually hid in the town's back alleys, trying to avoid the musicians that lurked back there.

Edgar feared that his…well, fear made him and his family the laughingstock of the town. However, while there was a bit of a chuckle sometimes behind closed doors, the townsfolk weren't mean, and they were truly concerned for him. His screams were rather flattering in this somewhat backward place, but they didn't want him to be miserable his entire life.

With Edgar's eighteenth year approaching, his irrational fears hadn't lessened much. He could manage to walk about town, or go to the Mayor's paranoid town meetings if he absolutely had to. He just focused on the cobblestone ground in front of him instead of the abominations around him. The bulk of his time was spent either in his room in the tower or in a dead tree on a small plot of fenced-off land behind the mansion. In both of these places he surrounded himself with books. Fairy tales, science fiction, recipe books, historical tomes, he furiously read them all. He used the material he read as an escape. In his books, he didn't have to live in HalloweenTown. A by-product of his reading was that he wrote his own stories, his own adventures, his own escapes.

Edgar had one tangible escape. Every year, when the snow covered the town near the end of December, Jack took his family to visit the bright, merry ChristmasTown. No, Jack had never lost the feeling of wonder for the colourful jubilee of that town, and Sally held a near equal awe for the place. Edgar, however, honestly considered running away to the cheerful snowy village many times, though he'd never admit that to his parents. Just knowing that their vacation of sorts would happen without doubt helped give Edgar something to look forward to every year, as well as give him an outlet of sorts before he came back home for his birthday on the first of January.

The Skellington vacation was approaching again. The bags were packed, the townsfolk had all come to say goodbye and happy trails, and the family was getting ready to head out the door. Edgar was in his room, straightening his pinstriped and coat-tailed vest, made for him by his mother, of course, for the umpteenth time. Said mother knocked lightly on his door.

"Edgar?"

"Come on in, Mom." Sally stepped into his room and smiled at him sweetly. She approached him to straighten his tie, chuckling.

"You worry so much about your vest, but your tie's crooked."

"Thanks, Mom," Edgar mumbled, smiling. Sally finished and stepped back.

"You're so handsome. Just like your father."

"I know; you always say that," Edgar replied good-naturedly. After a short silence, he grew serious. "Mom…why don't we move to ChristmasTown?" Sally gave him a withered look.

"Oh, Edgar…" she sighed. Edgar plopped on the bed.

"I know, but why not? You love it, Dad loves it, I love it. Why can't we just move?" Sally settled down beside him, wrapping him into a sympathetic hug.

"Edgar, this is our home. I know that you've never really enjoyed living here, but I still have faith in you. Some day, you'll grow to love HalloweenTown. Picking up and moving won't solve your problems." She looked up at him with a mischievous smirk. "Besides, you know this town would fall apart without your father here to keep it together." Edgar showed a hint of cheering up.

"Are you guys coming? Mr. Claws is going to wait for us by the portal, so let's not be late," Jack called from downstairs, already sounding excited.

"Let's go, Edgar. He might leave without us." Sally laughed lightly, rising with Edgar, who was still looking down. "Cheer up, sweety. I seem to have a feeling that this year's vacation will be a great one. For all of us," she added, winking. Edgar knew better than to question his mum's intuition. He forced a small smile and joined Sally at the door. They descended the staircase in an amiable silence to the parlour, where Jack was pacing back and forth across the room. He stopped mid-stride when he noticed them arrive and grinned widely.

"Are we ready now?" Edgar felt a real smile spread across his own face at his father's anxiousness. Jack's grin was downright contagious sometimes.

"Yeah, Dad. Mom and I were just talking."

"We can talk on the way there. Let's go already!" Sally and Edgar laughed as Jack practically bound out the door.

Edgar's mood lessened a bit when he walked outside to find the townspeople gathered and waving goodbye yet again. Thankfully, they had remembered to distance themselves for his sake. Edgar fought the urge to grab his mother's hand; he was almost eighteen, for goodness' sakes, and focused on the stone path on his way to the automobile. When they got on the road that snaked its way through the forest, Edgar's mood rose again, and he started feeling some of the excitement that his father harboured. Slowly he began slipping into his vacation state of mind, letting all thoughts of HalloweenTown tumble out of his mind. He could forget its existence for a whole week and a day. With that happy thought front and center, Edgar dozed off against his window.

~Time jump brought to you by Vincent Price~

Sure enough, as the Skellingtons came upon the portals in the forest, they could make out Sandy Claws' blindingly red suit against the dull browns and tans of the trees. He had awaited their arrival as he said he would, even though the Halloween family was admittedly a little late. Edgar couldn't suppress a small smile; such bright colours didn't exist in HalloweenTown.

The Skellingtons unpacked themselves and their luggage from their automobile as they and Sandy Claws exchanged pleasantries.

"Hello, my dear friends. I alm-"

"Deepest apologies, Mr. Claws," Jack interrupted. "We were a little late in getting everything and everyone," here he glanced pointedly at Edgar and Sally, chuckling. "Into the car and on the road."

Sandy smiled warmly. "No worries, Jack, I was saying that I almost worried you wouldn't be coming this year. You know how my people love your visits."

Sally intertwined her fingers with Jack's. "Thank you, Sandy. We're glad as always to be welcome."

"Of course," Sandy beamed.

The family tossed their bags one by one into the portal, and then jumped in themselves. Edgar loved the sensation the portal created; sort of a squeezing on the inside and a gentle pulling on the outside. He landed with a plop beside his parents and Sandy Claws. They stood up to brush themselves off, when Edgar heard a sound like one more person had fallen behind him. Turning, his gaze was met with another pair of giant black eyes. It seemed that, judging by her overall appearance, a HalloweenTown girl had stowed away on their trip. But she was strange in that there wasn't anything at all scary about her. In fact, Edgar realized with a blush, she was rather pretty. Her wavy brown hair tumbled down her back, almost to her waist, complimenting her pale complexion and dark eyes. Those wide eyes left those of Edgar to gaze at the cheerful, colourful ChristmasTown. Then her dusty pink lips opened, not in awe, but in a terrified scream.

* * *

Christine was in fact from HalloweenTown. She had heard about the Skellington vacations to this strange ChristmasTown, and decided that she'd like to see it for herself. So, naturally, she decided that she would just hitch a ride on the back of their large automobile and hop into the portal after them. Unfortunately, she found that this ChristmasTown, as colourful and bright and gay as it was, absolutely and irrationally filled her with terror, and not the good kind.

After her explanation, Jack, being the gentleman he was, offered to take her back home. Christine was embarrassed to be found out so quickly, and stubbornly insisted that she not be taken home and cut their vacation short.

"My dear, as the leader of our town, it's my responsibility to make sure all of the citizens of HalloweenTown are happy and at ease. If this place is truly that awful to you, I'd be more than willing to take you home, vacation or no."

Flustered, Christine insisted yet again, "I've already altered your plans enough. I will not cut your vacation short. I can handle zis town for a measly week, believe me."

"You're entirely sure?"

Christine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Oui, monsieur. I 'ave told you over and over. It's just…culture shock, I suppose. I won't ruin your vacation."

"You can at least stay in our cabin with us," Sally offered, patting Christine's hand. "It's not huge, but it's big enough, and since we stay in it every year, it's decorated a bit more Halloween-ish. I think you'd be more comfortable there."

"You're very generous. I would love to stay wiz you folks, if you'll 'ave me. I apologize again…"

Sally giggled. "Oh, goodness. You don't have to keep apologizing. Unfortunately, we don't have a guest room…"

Edgar flushed again. She'd be staying with them? Suddenly, his mother called his name. He faced her, slightly flustered.

"You wouldn't mind giving up your room to our guest, right?" Sally asked with a pointed look. He nodded obediently. Christine shot a small smile of appreciation his way, then turned back to Sally.

Again, there was much polite arguing before Christine finally accepted Edgar's room.

* * *

The cabin that the Skellingtons resided in during their stays in ChristmasTown wasn't actually in the town itself. It was really a little ways out of the village. As much as the town could be enjoyable, it seemed as if its inhabitants hardly ever slept. The Skellington cabin was just close enough that the main town could be reached on foot, but far enough away that the noise and light didn't disturb it. In a word, perfect.

Christine was exceptionally pleased with the small amount of time it took to get there. She felt incredibly awkward trudging through the snow with the Skellington family, which was understandable, as she'd pretty much crashed their vacation and knew it. Jack entertained himself by asking her questions.

"So, Christine, why did you stow away?" he asked with a soft smirk.

"Honestly, monsieur, I just wanted to see where ze Pumpkin King and 'is family spent zeir vacations. I sought zat it must be terrifying," she replied with a blush.

Jack laughed lightly. "Well, not really…although you seem to think otherwise…" He paused and put a bony hand on her shoulder. "Really, dear girl, if you would rather go home –"

"Jack," Sally sighed when she saw Christine getting ready to retort. "She's already told you dozens of times that she can handle a week here. Let's just make her feel as at home as possible." Sally sent Jack a sharp glance, to which he grinned sheepishly in return. Edgar chuckled softly at his parents. Christine somehow heard him, and peeked back at him. He was rather interesting to her. She had heard stories about how the King of Terror and Dr. Finkelstein's first creation had given birth to a child that found HalloweenTown scary. In the bad way, that is.

Leaning towards Sally, she whispered to her. "Zat's Edgar isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Sally whispered back. "Why are you whispering?"

"Well…I…" Christine mumbled to herself, then backpedaled to walk beside Edgar. "So you're ze Edgar I've been 'earing so much about."

Edgar paled a bit, if that were possible. "I suppose I am."

"Zat is to say…er…ze sings I've 'eard aren't bad or anysing. I mean…" She fumbled for words before restarting. "I 'aven't seen you about ze town before."

"I'm sure you could probably guess why that may be," Edgar replied meekly.

"Er…oui. But surely you come outside sometimes."

"Yes, but I stay close to home."

"I see…" Christine trailed off, and the conversation died a horrible death. Luckily, the party had reached the cabin. Stepping inside, they stomped the snow off of their legs and looked around.

The cabin indeed had a touch of Halloween to it. The colour scheme was all in somber shades of black, grey, and green, with hints of yellow here and there. Spindle-legged tables and chairs and low, antique couches were the furniture, along with gigantic bookshelves stuffed to overflowing. Most of the furniture was covered in dust sheets, which Jack and Sally set about removing and hanging outside.

"Edgar," Sally began, throwing a few sheets into a hamper. "Why don't you show our guest to her room?"

"Alright. Christine, it's just down the hall a bit." Edgar led her down the hall, pointing out the toilet on the way, to what was usually his room. Opening the door, he blushed a bit, embarrassed. He'd neglected to clean very well before they had left the previous year. "I apologize for the mess…"

"Ah, non! Zat's fine; you should see my room back 'ome," Christine babbled.

"Still, uh, I'd like to clean a bit before you get settled in."

"Well zen let me 'elp you."

"No, no, I've got it."

"I insist!"

"You really don't have to-"

"The girl can clean if she wants to!" Sally called from her and Jack's room. Edgar and Christine shot each other startled looks, then chuckled nervously, entering the cluttered room.

"Really, Jack," Sally sighed, hanging a few dresses in the closet. "Those two and their manners."

"As if you have room to talk," Jack chuckled as he pulled her to his side. "I seem to remember a certain shy, well-mannered girl from my past…"

"Hush, you," Sally laughed, pushing him lightly away.

Back in Edgar's room, Christine had found something else interesting. As she straightened a stack of books, she picked one up and thumbed through it. She was surprised to find that it actually seemed to be a notebook almost filled with neat, spidery (A/N: Of course.) script. Glancing at Edgar, who conveniently had his back turned to her as he gathered up the spiders that had made a nest on his bureau, Christine slipped the book under the bed sheets behind her. Loudly dusting herself off, she tried to initiate a conversation.

"You 'ave quite a few books 'ere. I take it you enjoy reading, non?"

Edgar shooed the spiders into the ceiling corner and turned to her. "Yes, I do."

An awkward pause. "Read anysing interesting lately?"

He thought for a moment. "I read an interesting short story about a man that gave his son's life to save a train full of people."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

Another awkward pause. Christine sat on the bed, suddenly exhausted. "Would you care to elucidate?" she asked slowly.

"The man was in charge of raising and lowering a bridge as trains came along it. One day, his son came with him to work, and fell into the mechanism that held the gears for the bridge. The man was just getting ready to lower the bridge as he saw his son tumble in. If he activated the gears, his son would be crushed. If he took the time to pull his son out of the mechanism, the train would run off of the track and all of the people on it would surely die. In the end, he activated the bridge, crushing his son, but saving several hundred people that would never know of his sacrifice."

Christine sat in the sober silence. "Zat is so sad."

"Yes, it is. But it's also a bittersweet story of honour and sacrifice."

Yet another pause filled the room. "After zat, 'ow about a 'appy story?"

Edgar gave her an odd look, and leaned against his writing desk. "I suppose."

"It's a fairytale zat my muzzer used to tell me…"

"I've read lots of fairytales. I might have heard it before."

"Would you razzer I not tell you?"

"No, no. I just thought I'd say."

"Well zen. Once upon a time, long ago…" She chuckled. "Cliché, I know. Anyway, zere was a king zat asked 'is two daughters 'ow much they loved 'im. Ze first daughter said zat 'e was ze apple of 'er eye. Ze second daughter said zat she loved 'im as she loved ze salt in 'er food. Zis obviously did not please ze king, so 'e srew 'er out. In order to make a living wiz what little she 'ad, she made 'erself ugly so zat farmwives would 'ire 'er, and soon she became a shepherdess. A few years later, to remember 'erself, she dressed in 'er fine gowns for ze day. Ze prince was out 'unting, and rode by. Ze princess ran away before 'e could find out 'o she was. 'e fell into a sickness of longing, and said zat only ze bread made by zat shepherdess could 'eal him. So ze princess dressed in 'er finery and brought 'im ze bread, and zey fell in love and got married. She invited 'er fazzer to ze wedding. When 'e came, she 'ad 'is meal cooked wizout salt, and 'e finally realized 'is mistake."

Edgar laughed softly. "A fairytale with a punch-line. Surprisingly, I haven't read that one."

"My muzzer probably changed a few sings. It's just a family story, after all. It was quite a bit longer zan yours…"

"Ah, you're fine."

Another silence filled the room, but this time, it wasn't quite as awkward. Edgar broke the silence by clearing his throat.

"So…shall we see what Mom and Dad are up to?"

"If you don't mind, I still need to unpack."

"I'll…uh…leave you to it, then." And with that, Edgar left to find his parents.

Christine watched him disappear down the hall, then shut the door. She returned to the bed and retrieved the notebook from under the bed sheet. Flipping it open, she began to read the words scrawled across the first page.

~Time skip brought to you by Dr. Finkelstein's Premium Dog Biscuits~

Several hours later, Sally's voice rang through the cabin, startling Jack and Edgar from their re-re-re-re-organization of the books in the bookshelves.

"Dinner! There's some for you too, Christine."

Christine reluctantly dragged her eyes from the book in her hands. Closing it around the comforter as a bookmark, she stood and stretched. If the cover page wasn't lying, the book she had been so absorbed in for the past few hours was penned by none other than Edgar. Casting one last glance at the book lying on the bed, she left to join the Skellingtons at dinner.

Dinner at the Skellingtons was rather strange. Since Jack, Sally, and, by proxy, Edgar weren't living, they ate very little. Christine was unsure of herself until she realized that all of the excess had to go somewhere, so why not? As everyone relaxed around the table, happily digesting, Christine turned to Edgar.

"So you write?"

Edgar sputtered a bit, but answered lowly. "Just a bit."

"Ah. 'Just a bit,' you say?" she asked, tilting her head quizzically.

"Yes. You know, to pass the time…" he murmured back, blushing.

Might as well pull out the stops. "I found a book of yours."

Edgar stared at her, dumbfounded. "What book?"

"It was filled wiz writing, so, after seeing zat it wasn't a journal or somesing, I decided to read it," Christine said nonchalantly.

Sally beamed at her son. "You've never told us that you wrote! May we read a bit of your writing?"

Edgar's wide eyes turned to his parents as he put up his hands in defense. "Oh, you wouldn't want to read my writing; they're just boring little strings of nonsense, nothing amazing, really, just things that have popped into my head, and none of it fits cohesively or anything, I mean…" Realizing how he was rambling, Edgar let his words trail off, and tried to smile reassuringly to Jack and Sally.

"Edgar, if you didn't want us to read it, you only had to say so," Jack chortled.

"No, Dad, really it's not…" He trailed off again.

"Ah…it's really nuzzing, Mr. Skellington," Christine chipped in, sensing Edgar's reluctance and trying to help. "I just found zat book, and sought I'd ask." Edgar glanced at her thankfully. The dining room grew silent at that, and Christine couldn't help but notice how many uncomfortable pauses she'd caused in just one short evening.

After dinner, Christine helped clear the table, and would have helped clean the dishes had Sally insisted that she was their guest, and "guests don't do dishes." Instead, she went back to Edgar's room, seeing as how Jack was already in his nightclothes and reading in the sitting room. Edgar, it seemed, had disappeared as soon as the table had been cleared. Christine opened the door to his room to find him standing by the bed, flipping through the same notebook she had been reading earlier that afternoon. He seemed unaware of her entrance, so she scuffed lightly against the doorjamb to avoid startling him.

"Oh! Ah…hello."

"Good evening." Yet another pause. Ridiculous.

"I was just…ah…" Edgar rubbed the back of his head. "I wanted to thank you for…well, what you did at dinner."

"Well…you're welcome, of course, but why didn't you want your parents to see your writing?" Christine questioned slowly.

"They're my parents, I suppose. I don't know…" He fiddled with the book in his hands. "My stories are nothing special anyway."

Christine took a few steps forward, shocked, making Edgar back up against the bed. "What do you mean, 'nuzzing special'? Zey are very well written, extraordinary considering 'ow young you are!"

Edgar blushed a rosy scarlet. "R-really? Do you thing they're that good?"

"Oui, oui, I do!" Christine nodded emphatically, taking a few more steps forward.

"W-well, I'm honoured to hear that," Edgar stammered, flustered at her flattery and close proximity. "A writer always enjoys positive f-feedback."

"Well, since I gave you positive feedback, zere's somesing you can give me in return," Christine said cheerily.

"W-what would that be, miss?" Edgar gulped. There was less than a two-foot gap between the two of them.

"This," she snapped, slipping the book from his shaking hands. "I want to finish reading it." Christine danced out of the room, skimming the pages to find where she had left off last.

Edgar was left in the room, slightly stunned. "W-wait!" he called, coming to. "That's not quite fair!" He followed her down the hall and into the living room. "Please, just give it back!" Poor Edgar's parents, Sally having joined Jack on the loveseat, watched as their son followed Christine, who was twisting and dodging to keep her hold on a little book, generally enjoying herself in her game of keep-away with a frustrated, ranting Edgar.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bard would just like to open this chapter by proclaiming, "HOLY COW, YOU GUYS!" Really, I never expected this story to get 15 views, much less the 50-some-odd it got in the first three days of posting it! The Bard proceeded to drive his/her friends nuts by shouting out the stats of my stories every day. "Guys, my stories have gotten 40 views." "They got 20 more over the last few hours!" "OVER 100 PEOPLE have read my crap, you guys!" So without further ado, here's the next chapter for what seems to be a small fanbase. You guys are awesome.

Edgar was awoken by Santa's reindeer as they jingled above the cabin on their morning laps. He stretched and yawned, disengaging himself from his covers. The massive pile of throws and quilts that Sally had stacked on the couch had made it nearly as soft as his bed. Looking around the room, he found Jack somehow already awake and just beginning to string some cobwebs on a Christmas tree that he must have dragged in even earlier. Seeing Edgar rise from the couch, he gave him a toothy grin.

"Good morning, my boy!"

"Good morning, Dad," Edgar managed with almost half of his father's enthusiasm. He had only just woken up, after all. "Why are you up so early?"

"I thought I'd have this tree looking beautiful as a surprise for everyone." Jack gave him a playful glare. "I guess two out of four isn't a complete loss."

Edgar chuckled. "I almost forgot we had a guest." Jack only started humming and turned back to the tree. Edgar realized that he hadn't thought to bring any clothes out of his room to change into, so he headed that way.

"Edgar," Jack called softly. "Try not to wake anyone up. I still want this to be a surprise." He winked, and Edgar nodded, continuing down the hall.

When he reached his door, Edgar considered knocking, but figured that Christine wouldn't be awake anyway. He ever-so-slowly turned the doorknob and inched his way in. Sure enough, the sound of light snoring and a lump under the duvet were all that greeted him. He took a step forward, and was startled by a squeak. A rat had been sleeping soundly when Edgar's foot came down on its tail. Edgar jumped and stumbled, banging his hip loudly against the bureau. Christine sat up with a start, hugging the duvet to her chest.

"Who's zere?" she called out.

"Ow…it's only…only…" Edgar's mouth suddenly went dry, and his cheeks turned bright crimson. When he turned towards Christine, his eyes wandered to her shoulders. Her bare shoulders. There was no break, no strap of a nightgown or anything else, between her neck and her shoulders. The implications of such did not escape him in the least, and, as his mother had always dressed fairly modestly as he grew up, it left him utterly speechless.

"Edgar? What is it? Is somesing wrong?" Christine scanned the room, letting her arms droop slightly, and the cover slipped half and inch further downwards.

"Oh, oh, oh, n-no! I just came to get some clothes," Edgar blurted, his face growing impossibly redder. He turned away, reached into the bureau, and pulled out a shirt and trousers at random. "Don't mind me," he spouted, refusing to look at her. He all but ran out of the room.

"Edgar!" Christine called after him, still clueless. "I wonder what is ze matter wiz 'im zis morning." She then pulled the covers up over herself and drifted back to sleep, wondering over that strange boy.

Edgar, on the other hand, had gotten dressed in the washroom and trudged back into the sitting room, where his father was hanging eyes of newts onto the Christmas tree.

"Edgar?" he asked when he saw his son's face, which was still quite pink. "Are you feeling alright? You look a little feverish."

"Oh…yeah. I'm fine, just fine…"

~Time skip reluctantly brought to you by the Easter Bunny. Yes, he's still traumatized.~

Later that morning, Christine was indeed surprised by the brilliant Halloweenified Christmas tree. Sally, not so much ("But sweety, it looks more beautiful each year," she grinned, leaning into an only slightly disheartened Jack). The tree was covered in cobwebs and crows' feathers. Eyes of newts, spiders, random bones, and bits of candy intermingled as makeshift ornaments, and shining purple and orange lights glittered through the boughs. At the top, instead of a star, sat a tiny Jack-o-Lantern that glowed a misty green from within. The rampant mixture of colours and decorations should have looked tacky, but it was just chaotic enough to work.

"Monsieur, zis is…tres belle!" Christine exclaimed, amazed beyond English.

"If you think this is beautiful, just wait until you see the ones in town," Jack replied merrily. Christine froze, and the candy she'd snuck off of the tree skittered on the floor.

"Ze…ze town? Are we 'eading zere today?"

"Oh…" Sally murmured, seeing Christine's fright. "I suppose you don't have to come if you don't want to. I'd forgotten how terrified you were of the place."

"I'm not sure. An empty 'ouse doesn't sit well wiz me," Christine mumbled.

"You should come," Edgar said definitively. Everyone turned to him, surprised. He blushed a bit, then explained himself. "Maybe if you saw a little more, you'd see that there's nothing scary about ChristmasTown." Christine looked at him doubtfully. "Trust me," he finished, smiling.

"Alright," she said, steeling herself. "I will try. Only if you strike a deal wiz me."

"And that would be?"

Christine glanced over to Jack and Sally, who were watching them intently with amused expressions. "If I go wiz your family to zis ChristmasTown, and I get too frightened, you will allow me to come straight back 'ere, no questions asked. But, if I can stay wiz you ze entire time…" She leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "Zen I get to read more of your stories." She leaned back and let out a laugh at his tomato-red face.

"Deal," he barked softly, looking away.

Jack and Sally just watched, puzzled as their son and their guest shook hands.

"Jack," Sally whispered, leaning towards the skeleton. "I believe that our son may have gotten himself into a tough spot."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Jack replied, whispering as well with a wide grin. "But this tough spot, I think, will have a happy resolution." Sally just hugged his bony arm closer to her side.

* * *

The cheery music of ChristmasTown grew louder and louder as the Skellingtons and their guest made their way down the snowy road. Jack was happily informing Sally of his plans for the visit, and Edgar walked with Christine behind them. Edgar was trying his hardest to ignore that, since the music and light from the town could be discerned, Christine had clasped onto his hand, and that her grasp had grown tighter and tighter. Now, as they approached the first main street and rosy cottages on the edge of town, her grip had extended to his upper arm which, she was holding against herself like a shield. Poor Edgar had read enough stories and novels to know what was wrong with him; he was falling for her, hard. Yes, he was indeed in trouble.

Jack turned around to ask Edgar his opinion on something (likely where he thought one could find the best Christmas pies) and promptly burst into laughter at the sight he beheld: Christine, almost wrapped around Edgar's arm, but pulling it behind him awkwardly so she could hide like a child behind its mother, and Edgar, looking downright determined, but his pale face blazing red. Christine snapped out of her stupor to realize just how tightly and awkwardly she'd been clinging to Edgar when Sally turned and joined Jack in his laughter. She let go and jumped a bit away from him, her face turning as rosy as his. Somehow, through the tears of mirth and fits of giggles and painful awkwardness, they all made it to the main street of the town, where the ChristmasTown archway towered above.

And where Edgar became painfully aware of Christine's hand clutching his once again.

"So, my dear," Jack beamed, sweeping an arm around Sally. "Where shall we begin our tour of ChristmasTown with our guest?"

Sally, not even sparing a second glance at Edgar and Christine's intertwined hands, began walking into the fabric store. "You know, I think Edgar can handle giving Christine a tour." The other three looked at her, shocked. "Can't you, Edgar?"

"I-I suppose, b-but, Mom-"

"Excellent. Jack can you help me pick out some new fabric for drapes at the cabin? The house rat decided to make a cozy little nest out of the last ones while we were gone." She wasn't even slowing down or showing any signs of paying them any attention.

"Sally!" Jack called, jogging to catch her just as she stepped inside the shop. This left Edgar and Christine staring after them, slightly dumbfounded.

Inside the shop, Sally had already greeted the clerk and had begun sifting through the bargain bin to see if she could spot anything good. Jack scanned the shop, spotted her (not that hard, as he was tall enough to see right over the shelves), and sped over to her.

"Don't you think it was a little rude to leave our guest before we'd shown her about?" he asked, a bit exasperated. This wasn't like his polite little Sally at all.

"Nope," she answered shortly, continuing to dig through the clearance fabric.

"Really?" Jack asked again.

Sally set the fabric aside and smiled up at him. "Really."

As she stepped around him, Jack simply stood there, unsure. "…And why would that not be considered rude?"

"Oh, Jack," Sally sighed, looking tired. Finally she turned to him. "As brilliant as you are, you can be downright slow sometimes."

Jack brushed off the tiny insult. "What do you mean?" He smirked lightly. "What are you up to, you little demon?"

"If you can't see what's going on between that girl and our son, and I of all people can, you are beyond help." She began to pore through the racks of fabrics as Jack grew contemplative. Several long moments and long aisles later, he suddenly gasped.

"Wait! Edgar, he…"

"Yep."

"And the girl, she –"

"Yes again."

"And they –"

"Yes, Jack."

"I…I…" Jack stood there for a moment, then sighed in defeat. "You're right."

"About what?"

"I am downright slow sometimes."

Back in the streets of ChristmasTown, Edgar was trying his hardest to be a tour guide, which wasn't hard. Since Christmas was only a few days away, the town was in full swing. More lights, garland, wreaths, Christmas trees, and snowmen were strewn all over the town, with more being added every second. Elves were scurrying and hurrying in and out of the shops, decorating, stocking up, and making foods, toys, and clothes to sell. Smoke drifted lazily out of every smokestack, and Santa's factory and the town's train could be heard in the distance, chug-chug-chugging along at full throttle.

Unfortunately, Christine was still rather terrified. She'd taken to hugging Edgar's arm against her again, trying to dodge elves as they bustled past with packages piled higher than their pointy hats.

"S-so…" Edgar stuttered, a little flustered. "There's a frozen pond over here where the elves like to ice skate." Christine glanced in the direction of the pond, still shaking. "Hey." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Are you still alright?"

"Ou-oui…" Christine shook herself a bit. "It's just…just, uh…startling."

"Is it getting any better?"

"A little bit. It's kind of busy around 'ere."

He paused. "I know where we can go."

Edgar led the both of them through a back alley. "Where are we going?" Christine asked. He didn't reply, and opened a door, which led to a flight of stairs. Dragging her along by her hand, he pulled her up after him and opened a door to the roof of the building, pushing through the snow piled in front of it.

"Not very many people come up here…" he explained. Christine just watched, until Edgar reached for her hand. Blushing lightly, she took it and followed him out the door and onto the roof.

This particular roof was on one of the tallest buildings in the town. From that high up, Christine and Edgar could see just about everything in town. The streets looked like a swimming, glowing hodgepodge of Christmas colours, while the music floated softly to their ears. Christine's grip loosened slightly on Edgar's hand. He looked down at her curiously.

"Is this better?"

"Much." She smiled up at him.

* * *

So, I'm planning to have two more chapters of about this length in this story. The Bard knows just where he/she is going now, so now he/she just has to get it typed.


	3. Chapter 3

The Bard is absolutely flabbergasted. He/she never dreamed that this story would get almost 100 views. And that's out of about 160 altogether. Phew! I hope I can keep delivering to you guys. Those numbers are probably small, but they excite me nonetheless. And to those who are wondering, yes, the Bard IS still working on (Insert Title Here). He/she wants to finish this story first. Also, I don't own Jacques Pepin.

Giant snowflakes began drifting down as Edgar gazed out over ChristmasTown. The light over the town was dimming a bit, not that the two could tell from their perch on the low wall at the edge of the roof, since the lights all over town cast almost as much of a glow as the sun. Christine was also looking at the gay little town, but quickly drew her eyes back up to the greying sky, slightly overwhelmed. Edgar didn't fail to notice.

"Still too hectic?" he asked.

"Just a bit," she chuckled.

Ah, those silences. The silences were certainly growing more comfortable, though.

"What's so frightening about ChristmasTown for you?"

"It's just…uncomfortable. Ze people 'ere are so strange."

"And the people at HalloweenTown aren't?"

"Well…I suppose zey are, but I guess I'm used to zem."

"But these people aren't…aren't…"

"'Scary'?" Christine finished for him. Edgar looked away from her. "Do you sink I am scary?" she asked.

Edgar glanced at her, then looked away from her again, blushing lightly. "No."

"Why is zat? Why not?"

"You look…you aren't… you're human. There's nothing scary about you."

"Non. You're wrong."

"Wait, you're not? What do you mean?"

The snow continued to drift down lightly, muffling the music on the street below. Christine fidgeted with the white fluff, piling it beside her.

"…I'll show you one day. When I know you won't be scared."

"How do you know I'll be scared?"

Christine gave him a disbelieving look. "Talk does travel around ze town, Edgar."

"Oh…yeah…" He paused. "Well, since you've heard so much about me, it's only fair you tell me a little about yourself." Christine gave him another strange look.

"Zat was cheesy."

"I know."

"I suppose I can tell you a little about myself, zough. What do you want to know?"

"…Where are your parents? Aren't they worried with you being gone?"

"Non, my muzzer is still living wiz ze 'umans in 'er country, and my papa knows exactly where I am."

"That's a good starting point." He paused. "So what country is your mother in?" Christine stared at him. "What?"

"You seriously can't tell?! She's from France, of course!"

"Ah…"

"Ze accent really didn't tip you off at all?" (A/N: Obviously, this is only my approximation of a French accent, so I hope I didn't offend anyone. I've only met one French-speaking person, and they were Quebecois. I do enjoy watching Jacques Pepin's cooking show when I can.)

"Okay, okay, my bad. That's interesting. So…who is your father?"

"I can't tell you because it would give away why I'm scary."

"Fair enough. You saw through me," Edgar chuckled.

"I want to know somezing about you now."

"And what is that?"

"Why are you scared of 'AlloweenTown? I've 'eard zat you are scared of it, but why?" Edgar squiggled little pictures in the snow next to him.

"The people there are frightening."

"But so are you. Scariness is subjective. What makes zem frightening?"

"They just…are."

"Do you sink zey'll 'urt you? Do you sink you are in danger?"

"Of course not."

"Zen why ze fear?"

Edgar thought to himself. Why was he so terrified? He asked himself this often, but he just did not know. He didn't feel threatened by the HalloweenTown bunch in the least, but there was something else scary about them. Suddenly, he stared back at Christine.

"So does that mean that you feel threatened by the people here?"

Christine scoffed. "Of course not."

"So how do you explain your fear?"

Christine grasped for words. It seemed that there were no words to quite describe the irrational fear she had of ChristmasTown, just as Edgar had none to describe why he was terrified by his own fellow townsfolk in HalloweenTown. But soon, she did find words, and some connections clicked in her brain. She looked up at him accusingly.

"At least I confronted my fears, unlike some cowards."

Edgar was shocked. Where had that come from? "I beg your pardon?" She rose from her snow-covered seat and began pacing in front of him.

"I've ventured into ChristmasTown, non? I'm trying. Zis place is strange to me, different. And don't we fear what we do not understand? It's only natural! But you. 'AlloweenTown is your 'ome, ze place where you belong. So do not you dare to imply zat I am a 'ypocrite," Christine finished, heated and panting slightly.

Edgar was taken aback. He stood as well, slight anger rising in his gut. "I wasn't implying anything; you came upon that realization yourself, my dear. And as for HalloweenTown being my home, maybe I didn't want to live there in the first place. If you must know, I've asked my parents if we could move here many times."

"Oh, so you are simply running away from your problems? Zen you are more a coward zan ze man zat sits and wallows in 'is own self-pity," she spat.

"I'm not running away!"

"Zen what are you doing?"

"Coping!"

"Zat's not coping, zat's copping out, as I believe it's said."

"Maybe I'm just that scared, okay?!"

"Excuse me," a voice squeaked suddenly.

"What?!" Christine and Edgar shouted in unison. The tiny elf girl shuddered a little, but stood her ground. Christine's eyes widened a bit when she realized just who, or rather what she was, and resisted the urge to sneak behind Edgar.

"M-My daddy saw you two up here, and since we're c-closing, he wondered if you might like some of today's l-leftovers to share." In her hands, she held a bag of gingerbread cookies tied with a festive red and green bow. The little girl didn't dare take another step forward. Christine looked monstrous and angry to the puny elf child, and Edgar, who she'd recognized as the nice, quiet Skellington boy that visited every year, was just yelling, something she'd never seen him do before.

Christine was the one to approach the trembling girl first, much to Edgar's surprise. "It's very sweet of you to come all ze way up 'ere to give us zese," she gritted out, forcing a smile. Christine was still very much afraid, but she wanted to make a point to the stubborn young man behind her. The elf girl, unfortunately, didn't look much less terrified. "I'm sorry you 'ad to see us yelling like zat. It was kind of scary, wasn't it?"

The little elf nodded.

"Well, I'll make it up to you, alright? What's your name, fille?"

"I-It's Sherry, ma'am."

"Ah. Did you know zat zere is a French word zat your name comes from?"

Sherry shook her head, brightening a little in her interest.

"It is 'cherie', and it means 'dear one'. It is a very nice name to 'ave, as you can see." Christine's smile was coming a bit easier now. Sherry grinned back at her. Christine gently took the bag of cookies from her. "Now a gift like zis deserves a gift in return," she whispered as she dug through her coat pockets. She handed Sherry a few pieces of candy she had swiped from the Halloween-Christmas tree that morning. "Zese are from 'AlloweenTown, where zat boy over zere and I live."

"Wow," Sherry gasped. "Thank you very much, miss!"

"You're very welcome. You should be getting 'ome too, Sherry, before your papa gets too worried over you."

The tiny elf nodded and grinned, carefully pocketing her new treasures, then disappeared through the door that led to the building's stairwell.

Christine stood and turned back to Edgar. "So…" she began.

"So." The snow continued to fall around them.

"You were saying?"

"I saw what you did. That was brave," he said quietly. Christine took a step towards him. "I assume you aren't scared anymore?"

"Oh, no," she barked out, laughing. "I'm still frightened of zis place, but zat was only a child. And zere was only one." Edgar gaped at her. She laughed again. "I 'ate to interrupt your amazement, but it is getting late, and I sink your parents might wonder where we are." He looked up into the sky, where giant snowflakes softly drifted overhead. His clothes were starting to feel a bit damp. Somehow, though it hadn't seemed that long, they had been on the roof for a few hours.

"You're right," he said, not one hundred percent sure what he meant by his statement exactly. "We should head back." Christine turned towards the door leading back downstairs. "Christine…" She peered over her shoulder at him. "I hope we can put all of that yelling and arguing behind us."

"What arguing?" she asked, taking his hand. "Would you like some 'gingerbread', as I believe Sherry called it? It's quite good. It has a good spice to it."

Edgar accepted the offer, blushing again. This girl. She never stopped surprising him. He decided that he must surprise her as well, wanted to do something for her somehow. But for now, he was content eating his gingerbread and letting the warmth of her hand seep into his long, chilled fingers.

Jack and Sally admittedly had their son pushed a bit further back in their minds. At the forefront of their thoughts was the fact that it was Christmas Eve tonight, and they were split up trying to find gifts for each other. Jack had gone through a jewelery shop, a bakery, and, in desperation, back to the fabric shop, but had found nothing sufficient. Sally never wore jewelry unless it was their wedding band, the goods at the baker were far too sweet and she already had most of the utensils and supplies they sold, and she'd already bought all of the good fabric she could find at the fabric shop. His last resort was the book store. Sally never tired of a good fantasy or romance. But as he walked in, he spied the red-headed doll scouring the shelves herself.

Sally herself had been trying to find a gift for Jack, and had gone through the haberdashery and the toy shop. Unfortunately for her, nothing at the haberdasher's was the right size, not surprisingly, and they didn't have any interesting new trinkets at the toy factory this year. So she turned to the book store. Jack was always trying to learn things, especially pertaining to science. As she was scanning the racks of books, a sliver of black in the borderline gaudy shop made her glance over to see her husband, shocked. They stared at each other for a long moment, then finally laughed at themselves.

"You aren't supposed to be here, Jack. I'm trying to find your gift," Sally said in a mock scolding tone.

"That's not fair. I only wanted to come in for a moment to find your gift."

"Really, as if our bookcases aren't full enough."

Even so, they left about half an hour later with bags under one arm.

~Time skip brought to you by Santa's Toy Factory. Running strong since…forever!~

Jack and Sally didn't question Edgar and Christine when they found them huddled in a sweets shop, conversing with an elf and his daughter. They didn't question them when they realized the store had been closed already. They also didn't question them when they noticed the two holding hands.

The Skellingtons and Christine didn't talk much on their way back to the cabin. They simply enjoyed the snow and the quiet; all the elves of the town seemed to have disappeared once the moon began to rise. Still the snow fell to the ground, gentle as it had all evening. Still, Edgar and Christine held hands. Something had happened between them following their argument, something good. Very good. Neither of them could place it exactly, but both of them knew that they didn't want to let go of the other's hand, because of this very good thing.

Finally, they had to let go when they entered the cabin. Snow was shaken and stomped off, and a great roaring fire was built. As they all settled comfortably in the sitting room to warm up with the hot chocolate that Sally and Christine had made everyone, Jack broke the silence.

"Christine, I know this Christmas thing isn't terribly widespread in HalloweenTown, but do you know what tonight is?"

"Non, monsieur."

"Tonight," he proclaimed with a great sweep of his arm. "Is Christmas Eve. Tonight, Sandy Claws will take off to deliver his presents all over the world. Tomorrow, we open the gifts that he has brought us and that we have brought each other."

Christine fretted for a moment. She hadn't brought any gifts for the Skellingtons, but then she realized that they surely must know that anyway. She didn't want to start another apology war. "When will Sandy take off?" she asked.

"He always leaves at 21:00 (A/N: 9:00 p.m.) on the dot. We can see him from our window."

About half an hour later, they gathered around the window to do just that. Nine chimes could be heard from the town hall signaling the time, and a roar of cheering erupted from far away. The elves hadn't disappeared exactly; they'd gone to wish Sandy bon voyage. From the window, as Jack had said, a golden streak could be seen traveling in front of the moon and vanishing into the clouds. It took a few moments for Sandy Claws' message to reach them so far away.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I have an advertisement. Do you like video games? Do you have a dollar? If you answered yes to both of these questions, do I have something for you! A friend of the Bard's from the States is working on releasing the first PC game of their up-and-coming company, D-n-S. I'd really appreciate it if you at least checked it out, or showed it to your friends. Just search "Triomancer" on Kickstarter. Thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

Oh, man. Last chapter. The Bard would like to say "Happy Christmas" (or, if you prefer, Happy Chanukah, Happy Yule, or Happy You-Didn't-Die-Yet Day for the atheists), but it isn't Christmas, like it is in the story right now. So darn it all. It's interesting to see my writing slowly but steadily improve bit by bit. Anyway, here's the last chapter. The Bard does not own any of the songs mentioned within. Enjoy.

Edgar woke in the sitting room to the sound of knocking on the front door. He rubbed his eyes blearily and rolled off of the couch. Stumbling to the door, he tried to look out of the peephole, but it was covered with snow. The strangers knocked again. He opened the door finally to find a sweet little troupe of elf carolers standing outside.

"We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas-"

"And a Happy New Year," Edgar finished quietly, smiling. The carolers beamed up at him and continued to the bridge.

"Good tidings we bring to you and your kin…"

"What's all zis noise?" a voice behind Edgar asked. He turned to see Christine standing behind him, wrapped in a robe and a quilt, squinting through tired eyes to the musical group outside.

"Oh, bring us a figgy pudding, oh, bring us a figgy pudding…"

"These are just the ChristmasTown carolers. They travel door to door on Christmas Day to sing."

"We won't go until we get some, we won't go until we get some…"

"Why do zey want a 'figgy pudding'?" She seemed a bit uncomfortable.

"It's just how the song goes."

"Oh…"

"We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!" the carolers finished.

Edgar clapped politely. "That was marvelous, thank you." He began to shut the door, but the elves began humming the beginning of another song.

"I really can't stay…" a girl elf began.

"But baby, it's cold outside…" a boy elf joined in.

"I've got to go away…"

"But baby, it's cold outside…"

"This evening has been…"

"Been hoping that you'd drop in…"

"So very nice."

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice."

Then Edgar shut the door. "They seem to be learning some new songs lately."

"I don't believe I've 'eard zat carol before."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Edgar chuckled, blushing and grinning sheepishly.

"Well…zen I am going back to bed." Christine seemed upset for some reason.

"Wait…Christine?" She was already speeding back to the hall.

"Good night…morning. Whatever."

"Christine?"

As she disappeared down the hallway, Edgar's mind reeled. What was with that tone? She almost seemed offended or something. He tried to think about what could have possibly offended her, but could find nothing. Suddenly, he smacked himself on the forehead. Of course! He must have sounded pretentious when he said that he didn't expect her to know that particular song. He rushed down the hallway after her. Without thinking, he swung open the door to his room.

"Christine, I didn't mean to sound haughty when I said you wouldn't know that song, it's just that the…song…" He trailed off again as he realized that he was talking to Christine's bare back. Apparently, she was just in the middle of slipping out of her robe. His face turning an impossible crimson, he spun around. Indecent, abnormal, offensive, ghastly excuse for a gentleman, not even knocking before entering a lady's room, even if it was his own. "I-I'm terribly s-sorry to interrupt, I'll be leaving now. Please excuse me." And he took a step back to the door.

"Wait." Edgar reluctantly froze. Now the anger would come, the insults and disgust. "Zere's somesing I would actually like to show you. I sink you can handle it now." Edgar did not dare turn around. His face continued to burn as he tried to think what Christine could have possibly meant by her words. "I felt it coming, so I came back in 'ere, but you 'ave…impeccable…timing." Edgar was a little startled when he heard her seemingly force out the last two words. He also heard strange pops and clicks and grumbles behind him. His curiosity wouldn't hold out much longer, but luckily Christine spoke up again. "Okay…you can turn around now."

Edgar braced himself slightly, then, slowly, very slowly, he turned. A scream curled up in the back of his throat, but refused to leap out in the silent cabin. Instead of a pretty, dark-haired girl in the room with him, there was a six-foot-tall werewolf. Black hair bristled from every inch of its skin, sticking up on its shoulders and ears, which were laid back against its skull. Its long, pointed muzzle was open slightly to let out soft pants and showcase sharp white fangs. Short but equally sharp claws curved out from spindly, fur-covered fingers, and a bristly black tail swished slowly behind it. Edgar's knees buckled beneath him when its dark eyes met his own and it took a step toward him.

"W-what…?" The room spun into black.

"Edgar? Edgar? Are you okay? Edgar?!"

* * *

Jack paced the sitting room. "I was afraid this would happen."

"You couldn't have possibly foreseen this, Jack," Sally comforted.

"But I knew who she was; I should have made sure that they stayed far away from each other. I knew she would have to turn sooner or later. She can't even control it yet."

"But they get along so well. You saw them in town."

"Yes, but Edgar is terrified of everything. He's gotten so close to this girl, and now…what if he feels…betrayed, or something like that? Gah, I'm so stupid," he chided himself, laying a bony hand on his skull.

"Jack, he is eventually going to head out on his own." Sally wrapped him in a hug, which he returned loosely. "He's going to have to see things in the world. Whatever happens on this trip, I don't think anything bad will come of it."

"Still…"

* * *

Edgar blinked his eyes open for the second time that morning. At first he saw nothing, and couldn't even recognize where he was. For a moment, he thought he was dead, but then he saw a light barely filtering in through a drawn set of thick curtains. He also felt sheets below him and realized that he was in his own bed. The next thing he noticed was a shape moving slowly on the far side of the room.

"I'm so sorry, Edgar," the shape said with a familiar voice. "I didn't want to frighten you so badly. I'm sorry."

"That's you, isn't it?"

"Oui."

Edgar shut his eyes tightly. "So it wasn't a nightmare?"

"Non."

"So…you are a werewolf." It wasn't a question.

"It seems so," Christine replied wryly.

"And that's how you are scary." Again, not a question.

"I already talked to Jack, and I'm leaving in about an hour. I won't be scaring you any more."

Here there was an awful silence. It wasn't a comfortable silence, the kind that they'd gotten used to over the past two days. It was worst than the first silence that had passed since they met, the terribly awkward one where neither of them could find words to fill the silence. This time, both of them knew what they wanted to happen. Edgar wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she didn't have to leave, that he wasn't completely terrified of her. Christine wanted that to happen as well, but she also didn't want to hurt Edgar any more than she thought she already had.

The void stretched, and Edgar's eyes remained closed.

"Come closer."

"But I'm still-"

"My eyes are shut. Come closer." He heard the soft sigh of fur sweeping slowly nearer. When it stopped, he reached out a hand. "Give me your hand." He continued to stretch his hand blindly, then flinched and recoiled slightly when he felt fur and skin. "Okay, Edgar," he encouraged himself now. "Think of Christine. Think of her soft, warm hand." He was kind of embarrassed to say such things aloud, but so be it.

"Edgar, what are you-"

"Just a moment, please." He reached out again. This time, when he touched the fuzzy hand, he didn't flinch away. "This is Christine's hand," he told himself. "This is Christine's hand. There's nothing scary about it. It's only Christine."

Christine herself was shocked. Edgar was trying so hard. He was trying to overcome his fear of her. For her. She watched him with intense interest as he let his hand roam over hers, repeating his mantra over and over, trying to feel past the fur.

Edgar was slowly, so slowly becoming used to the feel of the hand within his. His fingers intertwined with hers as they had when they had walked through ChristmasTown. Just as he was about to reach up to her wrist, he felt something wet on his cheek. His eyes opened wide in shock to see dark ones just in front of his face.

"What in the world was that?!" he gasped out, rubbing it.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I just couldn't 'elp myself," Christine blurted.

"Was that your tongue? Did you just kiss me on the cheek?"

"Um…oui?"

And now Edgar was surprised yet again by this strange girl. Or wolf. Whatever. His face burning, he stared at her.

"Edgar?"

"W-what is it?"

"Are you frightened still?"

Edgar realized that he was still staring at a giant wolf. One that was maybe a foot away from his bedside, hunched over with its paw in his grasp. "Yes," he squeaked. Clearing his throat a bit, he continued. "But…not…not as much, I guess." It was true. He was still terrified of the monstrous form before him, but he didn't quite feel like screaming and running for the hills anymore. He looked away.

"It shouldn't last much longer."

"What shouldn't?"

"My transformation. It's already been about four hours."

"It has?!" Edgar jumped out of bed and ran right past the werewolf girl and into the sitting room. "Mom? Dad?"

Jack and Sally were reading silently, already dressed and waiting to take Christine back home.

"Edgar?" Jack said when his son burst into the room.

"Dad," Edgar nearly shouted. "Don't make Christine leave. I'll be fine, I swear, and it's Christmas, and she didn't do anything or anything and I've woken up even if I did faint and I can deal a little better with it and –"

"Slow down," Sally exclaimed. "You're ranting and we can't make heads or tails of it. What happened?"

"I'm not…as…scared of her." Jack and Sally shared a surprised glance.

"Really?" they asked in unison.

At that moment, Christine made her entrance. True to her word, the transformation had faded, and Christine looked like Christine again, albeit a little drained.

"I apologize again for terrifying your son. My bag is in ze 'allway when you are boz ready for me to leave."

"I'm not…as scared," Edgar repeated to himself.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked him.

"I'm not as scared!" he yelled in joy.

"What?"

Edgar ran up to her and pulled her into his spindly arms.

"I'm not as scared!" he shouted again, grinning madly. Christine didn't know what to do, but her cheeks tinted red at his glee. He pulled her tighter and spun her around, laughing loudly.

"Edgar, what are you –" Then he cut her off with a kiss on the cheek. Now both of their faces were a deep crimson. After a moment, they both started laughing and smiling like fools and simply held on to each other.

"Sally," Jack whispered to the doll. "What in the world just happened to our son?"

"Well, Jack," she whispered back. "I think, just maybe, he might be happy."

* * *

Phew. That ending was…a little rough to me. But if you, dear reader enjoyed it, that's all that matters. I can't believe I churned this long of a story out in just a few weeks! It involved staying up late, and, on one day, getting up a few hours early, but it was worth it. The Bard would like to thank all of you for your continued support (*cough* only got one review *cough*) and for actually reading his/her story to the end. Now, if you don't mind me, I've got a monstrous and worse next story to work on, (Insert Title Here). I won't have internet for about a week, but rest assured, I am working on it.


End file.
